


Joyride

by BalefireFlatlands



Series: The Balefire [7]
Category: Mad Max (Video Game 2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-16 18:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16959564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands
Summary: Scab and Blas make good decisions.





	Joyride

A good day for the Lighthouse meant no one died, they had enough food, and maybe their scavenging parties found something worthwhile. An amazing day was their scouts coming across a Buzzard nest while the Buzzards were away. Granted most of what the Buzzards had was rusted out junk that was past being recognizable. Still they’d had food, water, weapons, clothing, and supplies. Anything was worthwhile in the Dunes and nothing was ever wasted.

They’d also had alcohol.

Cases of it.

Needless to say the majority of the lighthouse was currently laying around in a drunken heap, including their leader Jeet. It was a prime opportunity for War Boys to attack and catch them unaware. And there was one just outside the keep. In a brightly colored car no less, obviously one of Stank Gum’s neon convoy. He was hanging out the window snickering at another member of his war party who was currently crouched on the ground puking his guts out.

“Bullet Boy can’t hold his guzzoline.” Screeched out amidst high pitched maniacal laughter.

“Shut it.” The Bullet Boy staggered to his feet and leaned heavily against the car door. “W-Woulda been fine if'n I didn’t hafta carry you.” He wiped his mouth with his arm before pulling open the car door with more force than he intended and nearly sending the War Boy tumbling to the ground. Climbing over the twisted up War Boy he settled in the drivers seat, squinting at the horizon.

“Start her up! I wanna test this puppy out. Stank keeps his machines well fed, glistening. Probably got nitro for days in here!” He started poking around all the dials and gauges and levers in a state of high excitement.

The Bullet Boy started the car, listening to the healthy rumbling of the V6 engine. "Scab…… this is a real bad idea.“ A moment of lucidity amongst the haze of drunkenness.

Scab snarled, bodily climbing into Blas Cap’s lap and sitting there heavily. "I was champion. The chromest driver. Cars succumb to me! Just you witness.”

“Witnessing is what I’m worried about.” But he wrapped his arm around Scab’s middle, holding him firmly in place and leaning to the side so he could see around him out the window. No wait, he was worried about something else. “Jeet’s gonna corpse us.”

“Not if we bring him something back!” Scab was almost giddy with excitement, hands caressing the steering wheel. “There’s a sniper post near — over there. Somewhere. Been there once. We’ll find it!”

Blas grumbled, easing on the gas and getting them moving. “And then get sniped and not hafta worry about Jeet.”

“C'mon! Faster!” Scab slammed his palm down onto Blas’ knee to shove his foot down on the pedal. He tried to shift it into a higher gear before Blas could get to the clutch, causing the transmission to grind and the car to stall out and spin to a stop.

“You gotta tell me when you’re shifting!” Blas leaned against him heavily, everything feeling like it was moving even when they were sitting still amidst a cloud of dust. “Else I’m gonna chunder all over you if we go spinning again.”

Seething at the first failure of his brilliant joyride idea, Scab started to mutter insults about the Bullet Farm and their soft rust-bucket boys under his breath as he started the car back up, waiting impatiently for Blas to get situated again and get them moving.

“I’m right here. I can hear you.”

Which just made Scab complain even louder, but they were moving at a fast clip now, the War Boy steering them off road and heading for a rock formation on the horizon. All his boasting was, for once, accurate, he had been an excellent driver when he’d had use of his legs, but the current set-up of Blas working the pedals and him steering and shifting was doing his grand driving record no favors.

“Faster! Come on Bullet Boy, we’re not in a slow stupid tank! This is pure war machine. Not a lumbering hunk of rust.”

Blas actually narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth. “Don’t talk about the Peacemaker like that. What’ve you got at Gastown? Cars on toppa cars on toppa cars. Things so topheavy I’m surprised Scrotus never knocked it over and crushed the lot of you.”

Scab snarled and elbowed Blas in the ribs, accidentally yanking the steering wheel and sending them over a rough patch of rocks. Blas grabbed for the wheel, pulling it hard in the other direction. That was it, he was turning the car around and they were going back, this had been a stupid idea anyway.

Staring to turn around to physically assault Blas, Scab paused squinting at something ahead of them. He was drunk enough that his vision was a little blurry, but that was the unmistakable glint of a sniper scope. “Wait wait! Look. Told you I knew where it was.” He shoved Blas’ hand off the steering wheel and headed towards it. “Now lemme drive before he gets suspicious and takes out our tires.”

Blas sighed and relented, letting Scab take control back. “You’re not expecting me to carry you up there are you?”

“No.” Scab thrust it into high gear, reaching up to start fiddling with some of the knobs. “We’re gonna slam it.”

“Slam it? You wanna drive the car into the sniper tower?”

“Chromest thing you’ve ever done! Don’t go soft on me now.”

Blas cringed behind Scab’s back, not liking this plan at all. But Scab knew what he was doing. The sniper in his nest didn’t see anything out of the ordinary with one of Stank’s brightly painted cars hurtling down the road and he could see Scab through his scope who was clearly a War Boy. It was strange for there to be only one car in a War Party, but not strange enough to worry. So he didn’t see it coming when Scab jerked the wheel to the side at the last minute, crashing through the stilts holding it up and sending the sniper screaming to his death.

That arm tightened around Scab as Blas, who had not been anywhere near actual combat since he’d lost his arm, cringed and hit the brakes and brought the car to a screeching halt near the wreckage.

Scab was laughing, overcome with excitement as he pushed open the door and fell out of the car onto the ground, immediately twisting himself up onto his palms so he could slither over to the wreckage. Blas took longer to emerge, staggering and nearly falling, far, far drunker than he had originally thought when they set out on Scab’s stupid plan to go for a ride. Why had he agreed to that again? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Scab was nearby digging in the sand for some reason, he’d scrabble in it with his hands and then move a few more feet and do it again.

“Here! Here, Blas look. Should be a four under here, a sixer if we’re lucky.” Scab had his fingers under a corrugated metal piece, rolling to the side to try and drag it away.

“A whater?” That didn’t sound like something that was going to explode so Blas didn’t much care.

Scab rocked back and forth trying to get that metal piece away from where it was buried. “Stupid Bullet Boy. Don’t you know anything? A car! We can tow it back and I can fix her up good. Imperator will be so grateful! Reward us something nice.”

“A car?” Alright, Jeet would probably be pleased with that. “And stop calling him an Imperator. Thought you hated Scrotus and all of that.” Getting the heavy piece of metal under his fingers he flipped it over revealing a small hovel containing a banged up car missing most of its body and doors, but with four tires and a steering wheel.

Scab grunted and grabbed onto the axle, crawling into the car and starting to prod around. “Call him what I want to.” He looked up from behind the steering wheel, grinning as it started up on the first try. “And you got mad about the waste of wheels that ran you over. Got no room to talk.”

Blas threw a rock at him, missing completely and falling on his ass, everything around him shimmering like a heat mirage. “Why doncha ever shut up?”

Pulling himself out of the car again he laughed at Blas, before approaching and prodding him in the side. “Hey. Get up! Gotta hook this car up and tow it back. Come on. Before a real patrol shows up.”

“Why do I gotta do everything?” Blas closed his eyes and fell backwards, sprawling in the dust, too dizzy to do much else. Scab didn’t respond, Blas knew full well why he had to do everything, because Scab was practically useless. He existed now to be a bloodbag for the Stronghold and the only reason Jeet hadn’t killed him yet was because Blas Cap liked him. Liked dragging the floppy War Boy against him and petting him till he squirmed, being soft as hell because Scab secretly liked it.

Between Blas’ drunken shambling and Scab’s screeching and getting in the way it took way longer than it should have to hook the new car up to the one stolen from Stank and then fill it with the supplies scattered around the fallen sniper tower. The Bullet Boy was fading fast and it took all of Scab’s loud yelling and poking and prodding to keep him awake as they drove back to the lighthouse. Stopping at the base of the cliff they were lucky to not be shot on sight as they fell out of the car in a heap.

Jeet stormed out of the stronghold, ready to beat the shit out of both of them for leaving, for stealing his property, for making him think they’d gone rogue and returned to the Immortan. Which hurt on some level. He wouldn’t ever admit it but he liked having them around. Pissed enough to not be thinking about that he loaded his crossbow as he got closer. He wouldn’t shoot Blas, the Bullet Boy was too valuable, but Scab … Scab he could do without. Or at least shoot him in the legs where he couldn’t feel it.

“Where the hell have you two been?” He stalked right up to them, glaring as Scab wormed his way out from where Blas had passed out on him.

“Look what we found!” Scab rolled onto his back so he could wave an arm at the new car. Clearly he did not see anything to be upset about and thought he was going to be rewarded handsomely.

Jeet looked up at the sky and counted to ten before looking back down at Scab, just so he didn’t unload an arrow into the War Boy’s face. He waved to his entourage that had followed him down. “Get the cars into the garage. I’ll deal with these two. Later.”

He wanted Blas to be awake for when he had a strong talk with them about not ever pulling this shit again. A talk that would likely involve his fists. And probably his dick too. He knelt down and scooped Blas up, throwing the unconscious Bullet Boy over his shoulder then grabbed one of Scab’s legs and started to drag him back into the keep. Scab was still drunk as hell and thought this was absolutely hysterical, laughing manically despite his back getting all torn up from the dirt he was being pulled over.

Jeet dropped them in their alcove, and turned to leave, he’d wait for them to sober up before he beat their brains in for defiance. He only got a few feet before he reached up to press harshly on the blades in his head and turned around sighing. Kneeling down he carefully placed Blas onto the mattress, didn’t want him to get hypothermia and die from one night of stupidity that was most likely Scab’s fault.

How he hated that loud stupid War Boy. Scab didn’t seem to care that he was hated which was even more infuriating. Scab was drunk, and horny, and thought that he’d done a good job and wanted to be rewarded.

With a high pitched giggle he dragged Jeet further into the little space he and Blas called home, sliding his hands into the warlord’s pants and planting messy kisses across Jeet’s chest. Jeet glowered. He was pissed. They’d stolen from him. Defied him. And they both needed to be taught a lesson. Scab had already worked off most of Jeet’s clothes, panting in excitement like a dog expecting someone to skritch his tummy. Jeet groaned. That wasn’t helping him stay angry. He needed to punish them both, make sure they didn’t do it again.

Tomorrow.

He’d punish them tomorrow.


End file.
